


Anxiety

by Pembrook



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Boys' Love, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, Gentle Sex, Hot Sex, Hot Springs & Onsen, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Sweet, Sweet/Hot, Yaoi, Yaoi on Ice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 21:43:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21327160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pembrook/pseuds/Pembrook
Summary: Yuuri lusts after his coach Victor, but performance anxiety keeps holding him back from getting physical.  Will fear or rejection keep Yuuri a virgin forever, or can Victor melt the ice of Yuuri's anxiety?
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Makkachin & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	Anxiety

Anxiety

I wait until Victor’s eyes are closed to steal a peek at his naked body. His long arms stretch luxuriously outwards, resting along the stone edge of the hot spring. I drink in the sight of his sculpted deltoids appreciatively, trying to memorize the details so I can save the image for later.

My anxious inner voice keeps telling me it’s only a matter of time before Victor comes to his senses and stops coaching me. Until then, I’ll enjoy this moment for however long it lasts. I’ll commit the details his body to memory so one day I can tell myself it really happened. _The_ Victor Nikiforov stayed in my parents’ inn. I know it because I remember all sorts of details I never could have gleaned from glossy posters and fanbooks about him.

Why am I such a pessimist? I silently scold myself and sink down into the pool until my mouth is just under the surface of the water. Victor _chose_ to coach me. In this very hot spring no less. So why does the pessimist in me still feel so anxious, like Victor’s already got one foot out the door?

His fair Russian skin flushes from the heat. His body is pink beneath the waterline, pale above, and his cheeks have reddened like when he’s indulged into much Smirnoff. His nipples are stiff in the wintery air and when he stirs, warm water laps at them. I bite my lip in envy, wishing _I _could lap at them.

I’m only human. I _want_ Victor so bad I can feel it in my bones; I just don’t know what to _do _with him. It drives me nuts when he casually flirts with me. I know he’s just kidding, but he has to know how I feel about him, the way I look at him. He’s just enjoying the attention. I suppose if I were in his position, I would too. But even if I wanted to make a move, I wouldn’t know what to do. I’ve got all this eager virginal energy, but no clue what to do with it. The risk of failure and rejection is too high.

My utter lack of experience wouldn’t be so bad if Victor wasn’t a debonair globe-trotting playboy. He’s so smooth and carefree, it’s like nothing fazes him. I’m sure he’s had a list of lovers a mile long. Male and female. Probably with perfect, athletic bodies like his. Probably suave and experienced like him, capable of bedroom feats I couldn’t possibly compete with.

So I play the part of the sexless nerd because it’s all I know. When I fantasize about Victor, I usually envision him entwined with some faceless hunk. Even in my fantasies, it’s easier to see myself as a fly on the wall rather than a participant. I’m so pathetic. 

I sigh through my nose. My breath causes faint ripples on the surface of the water.

I wish my glasses wouldn’t steam up so I could wear them in the bath and see Victor more clearly. I know he’s got pale, almost translucent body hair on his chest and forearms but I can’t see it with my blurred vision. I can barely see his silver eyelashes, clumped into little stars from the water.

Those eyelashes crack lazily open, revealing icy blue. I try to pretend like I wasn’t staring, but Victor’s faint, wry smile means he probably caught me in the act.

At least he seems to enjoy the attention. From me and his millions of other fans. It means Victor and I will always be miles apart, but at least I’m not offending him when I ogle him like a piece of meat.

“Glad you had an eye on me.” He bites back a yawn and stretches his long lithe arms. “I almost fell asleep for a minute there.”

“Mm. The hot water is pretty relaxing,” I say.

“I’m cooked. Ready to go back in?”

I nod.

I keep a blasé look on my face as we get out of the water, but I stare at Victor’s ass whenever his back is turned. That is, until he tragically wraps a towel around his waist. 

We put on house slippers and shuffle down the tatami-floored hall toward our rooms.

Victor hesitates in front of his own door. “Yuuri?” He has a sensual way of drawing out the first half of my name too long. I like to think it’s his way to distinguish me from Iouri Plisetsky.

“Yeah?”

“Care to join me for a nightcap? I’ve got two glasses in my room.”

I shake my head and blurt out, “No, I’m good.” 

Victor startles at how quickly I’d answered without thinking.

“Gotta watch my calories,” I explain lamely. “Good night.” Before he can object, I step into my room and shut the door.

I lean my back against the closed door and slide down until my butt hits the floor. Ahh, Victor. If you only knew what you do to me.

I drape my wet towel over the back of a chair, put on an old pair of boxers as pajamas and drag my futon out of the closet. I’m about to crawl under the covers when there’s a light tapping on the door.

I wonder if it’s Mom checking up on me, but then I hear the energetic rustle and scuffle of dog paws on the floor just outside my room. Makkachin.

I open the door just a crack and there’s Victor, crouching slightly so he can hold on to his excited poodle. “Makkachin wants to say good-night,” he whispers. 

Makkachin lunges forward suddenly, slipping Victor’s grip on his collar. The poodle barges into the room, shoving the door open abruptly so it smacks me on the face and I stagger back.

“Oop! Makkachin!” Victor chases the dog inside. “Come here. Be good!”

Makkachin runs a lap around my room. He stays just out of Victor’s reach, delighted by this impromptu game of chase. 

I close my door to keep Makkachin inside and the poodle gallops next to me. He butts his head against my hand hanging at my side in a shameless bid for attention. I tousle his curly fur and he grins up at me, tongue lolling.

Victor gives me an apologetic grimace. “Are you okay?”

I rub the side of my nose where I got smacked by the door and nod. Thank God my glasses were off, or that really would have hurt.

Victor crouches next to Makkachin and looks him in the eye. He points a stern finger, even as the dog looks back with a dumb, self-satisfied expression. Victor quietly scolds the dog in Russian in a “you should know better” tone of voice. I don’t understand a word of it, but it’s somehow kind of… sexy to listen to.

I notice Victor has changed into a black satin kimono. I remember him buying it from a random tourist trap when he first arrived in Japan. It was a cheap garment that didn’t look like much on the hanger, but it became rich and elegant when wrapped around his athletic body. The slick fabric had fallen off one shoulder, revealing Victor’s right arm to the elbow and a tantalizing peek of pink nipple.

I’m suddenly aware I’m not wearing anything but an old pair of boxer shorts, faded from countless washings. Not sexy. And _not_ good at hiding my swelling hard-on from looking down the front of Victor’s robe.

My face burns hot and I try to think of something to cover up with. Two seconds tick by and I can’t think of anything, so I drop to my knees beside Makkachin and start petting him, making sure the dog blocks Victor’s line of sight from my growing erection.

“I don’t know what’s got into him today,” Victor says.

“That’s a dog for you,” I say with nervous chuckle. _That was dumb, Yuuri. Can’t you think of something cooler to say?_

Victor starts stroking Makkachin’s fur along with me. Our hands brush, sending a pleasant shiver up my arm.

“He’s just been full of all kinds of energy,” Victor says. He’s looking at me with those ice-blue eyes. 

“O-oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Victor’s voice is low. “I guess I’m full of all kinds of energy, too.” He leans forward in one smooth motion and presses his lips against mine.

I give an undignified, “Mm!” of surprise and pull back instinctively. “Victor!” My voice sounds weirdly accusing. Even so, my brain struggles to recapture the feeling of that fleeting kiss so I can remember it later, the warmth and impossible softness of it. 

“What’s wrong?” He blinks in confusion, looking innocent as a child.

“I can’t…” 

His naïve expression slides into a smirk. “Why not?” Beneath his words, I can hear his unspoken, _‘I see the way you look at me…’_

I squirm under his gaze and avert my gaze to a pile of books in the corner. “You’re just teasing me,” I say in a small voice.

“Not true.” Victor gently pushes Makkachin aside so he can lean in closer to me. “I think you’re cute.”

My face burns hot. Is that true? Is it just a line he says to all his fans?

“Why shouldn’t we?” Victor leans forward to try for another kiss, but I scooch backward away from him.

“Because you’ll be disappointed,” I blurt out. Why is he making me say it? Victor knows perfectly well what a non-starter I am in the romance department. I add under my voice, “I’ve never done this before.”

“You’re a virgin?” Victor says bluntly. “That’s hot. I don’t mind.”

“I _do _mind. It’s easy for you to say because you’ve done this a thousand times before.”

Victor chuckles awkwardly. “I don’t think I’m quite the Casanova you think I am…”

_It’s not about you!_ My eyes burn with tears of frustration. “The point is I know I’ll be bad at it and--!”

_You’ll laugh at me. Not out loud, but you’ll be thinking it. _

_I’ll be so bad in bed, you’ll never think of me that way again. _

_You’ll lose interest and stop being my coach._

_The only way I won’t disappoint you is if I never have you in the first place._

His expression softens when he sees the look on my face. “Hey,” he says soothingly. “No pressure. This isn’t like doing jumps. There’s no score, no right and wrong way. Just explore. It’s nice.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter to myself sullenly. I look for Makkachin for comfort and distraction, but he’s resting his head on his paws in the corner now, dozing.

Victor sits down next to me in silence and we both watch the rise and fall of Makkachin’s chest for a little while. Out of the corner of my eye I try to steal a glance at Victor. His face is relaxed and wears an easily smile as if nothing was tense about this moment at all. His robe is also dangerously close to falling completely open in the front. 

“Making love is like a tasting menu,” Victor finally says. “You find out what you like by trying things out.” 

Uff. Leave it to a food metaphor, but this one kind of made sense.

“If you don’t like a dish, no one will make you take another bite. Won’t you let me offer you a sample?” 

He leans forward and kisses the side of my neck. I enjoy the feeling as he kisses his way downward_. _His parted lips press firm against my skin, applying just enough suction so each kiss feels satisfyingly complete, but leaves me wanting more. He makes his way down to the cap of my shoulder and then draws back with that easy-going smile. “May I offer you another course?”

I reach out and cling to Victor, drawing him in to close to gap between us. He wraps his arms around me and I can feel the warmth of his body mingling with mine through the cool satin of his kimono. The solidness of his chest feels reassuring pressed against mine. I can feel his heartbeat thrumming at a low easy pace compared to my own heart’s hummingbird beat. 

“Just don’t…” I mumble, burying my face in his chest. “Just don’t make fun of me.”

“Hm?” He kisses my forehead.

I trace my hands up his sculpted back muscles, reveling in the feel of them moving under my hands. When I reach his shoulders, I slide my fingers down the backs of his arms, swooning over the hard edges of his triceps. This is Victor Nikiforov, my idol, and I’m feeling him up. It’s surreal and-- incredibly--even better than in my fantasies.

Suddenly the floodgates of my desire fling wide and I can’t get enough sensation. I want to plead with him to touch me more, touch me all over. Victor slides a hand up the side of my ribs and brushes my nipple with his thumb. It sends a jolt of arousal straight to my groin and a little whimper escapes me.

“You like that?” he asks smoothly, stroking the nub of my nipple back and forth under his thumb.

I nod helplessly and cling to his back, trying to be patient, trying not to beg. I don’t want those hands separated from me for an instant. My skin aches for it.

We explore each other’s bodies with our hands and he kisses my neck and chest. I’m already lost in sensation and I don’t overthink it when his mouth finds mine. His warm lips part against my mouth and I can feel his tongue searching for me. I’m a clumsy kisser and it feels like my teeth keep getting in the way, but Victor is calm and patient. I realize he’s not put off by my amateurish fumblings and finally start to relax. I manage to match his rhythm, and invite his kiss deeper into my mouth, timidly licking his tongue. I wonder if kisses are always this wet or if I’m doing it wrong. 

Victor leans into me as I cling to his back until I’m lying on the tatami floor and he’s on all fours looming over me. I feel helpless and overpowered, yet utterly safe. He prowls over my body, kissing downward along my chest, finding all the tender places. I surrender to his experienced mouth. When Victor has made his way down across my belly, he grips the waistband of my boxers and pulls them downward, setting my erection free.

I start to protest, but he plants a gentle kiss along the side of my shaft, then another. My anxiety wails at me to bail out before I embarrass myself further, but my eros wants to wait and see where this is going.

Victor takes a wet lusty lick of my head and then slides his mouth over it. The sensation is so intense, I reflexively push him away.

He looks up from where he’s crouched over me like a tiger, his mouth inches from my cock. “Too much?” he says.

I nod weakly. I can’t tell him the real reason: that I’m afraid I’m going to pop prematurely if he goes any farther. Moreover, Victor would be doomed to disappointment when it was my time to reciprocate. The feeling of his mouth down there… There was no way I’d be able to figure it out and return the favor.

“Hey, shhh. You’re overthinking this.” Victor lies down beside me on the floor, casually propping himself up on one arm. “We’re only doing things you want.”

I nod. My brain feels relieved and my body roars in protest for Victor to continue.

“How about this?” Victor traces the fingertips of his free hand lazily down my belly. “Tonight let’s stick to what you already know.” He slides his warm fingers around my cock and starts giving it an easy stroke.

I nod and surrender to his touch. It’s nothing like when I touch myself. I can’t predict what he’ll do next and his touch is thrillingly foreign. He uses a firmer grip than I use when I touch myself and he focuses as much on the downstroke as the upstroke. The obsessed fan in me revels in the secret knowledge that this is how Victor must touch himself.

As my desire unfurls, I dare to reach out for the front of Victor’s silk kimono. It slides open easily, setting his hard cock free. I drink in the sight of that tasty meat, probably staring longer than I should. I’m distantly aware that I’m the envy of a million other horny fans as I reach out and take hold of him. Victor’s body jerks in pleasant surprise.

His eyebrows furrow in tension as I start stroking him, his eyes closed. I feel a giddy rush of excitement to see how aroused I can make him. It feels strangely powerful. Victor pauses from stroking me so he can focus on his own sensation. Maybe he’s noticing the way my stroke technique feels different from his.

“Do you have any lube?” he says breathily.

I’m embarrassed to admit I do. Is that something a person should be able to produce at a moment’s notice? But he asked, so it must be normal… I crawl over my bed to pull a bottle of lubricant from a bottom drawer. Victor follows me so we’re both kneeling on the futon facing each other. I hold out the bottle of lube to him like a relay racer trying to pass a baton.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Put it on me.”

I squeeze too much onto my hand and slather it over his cock until it’s dripping. He’s hard and slick in my hand and rocks his hips slightly in time with my stroking. I lean forward into his chest and breathe in the warm masculine scent of him.

He swipes some of the excess lube from himself onto me until we’re both wetly stroking each other. He grips my shoulder with his free hand, mouthing hungrily at the side of my neck. I desperately try to focus on pleasuring Victor, but I keep losing myself in my own sensation. I feel something catch deep inside me and I know I’ve reached some point I can’t turn back from.

“Victor…” I try to keep stroking him, but there’s a tidal wave building inside me and my grip slackens. All I can feel is his hand working my shaft, his hot hungry mouth sucking on my collar bone.

Through half-lidded eyes, I see him lean close. He gently pushes my hand away from his cock and then thrusts his hips towards mine. I feel the underside of his shaft slide against mine, and his strong hands envelop us both and start stroking us together.

“Aah! Ahn, Victor!” I’m delirious with pleasure as our wet cocks slide and rub against each other. I feel wild and out of control, and when climax washes over me, I let it take me. I cry out and spurt all over both of us in a hot flood. He keeps stroking expertly, wringing out every last bit of pleasure and pulling back before I get too sensitive.

I fall back on the bed, panting and light-headed. He looms over me on his knees, ominously backlit by the ceiling light like some kind of shadowy king. I watch him stroking himself, breathing hard, until he reaches his peak, spattering hot cum across my belly and chest.

For once, I’m too drunk with pleasure to feel anxious, so I lay back and enjoy the new sensations. My tired body feels heavy post-sex, like gravity’s pull has abruptly doubled. The pervy part of me kind of wants to taste Victor’s cum when he’s not looking, but I don’t get the chance. He grabs tissues from the box by my bed and starts to wipe me clean.

I smile shyly up at Victor and he looks down at me, looking approving and satisfied. “Have you enjoyed your meal so far?” he asks.

“My compliments to the chef,” I say.

He chuckles. “Mm. Good boy.”

Upon hearing those magic words, Makkachin awakens from his nap in the corner and sits up, the tags on his collar jingling. He lopes over to us, tail waving in eager expectation for attention. Victor humors him with a perfunctory petting, and Makkachin catches a whiff of new and interesting smells. He starts busily sniffing our bodies and presses his cold nose against my warm skin.

“Ahh, Makkachin! Get off.” I push his muzzle away from me, a little embarrassed.

“Sorry about my dog,” Victor says, in a tone that doesn’t sound remotely apologetic. “He just gets this way sometimes.”

I don’t know what to say, so I just bite my lips together and shrug a little.

“Guess I’ll leave him in my room the next time I want to say good night,” Victor says. He gives me peck on the cheek and leads Makkachin to the door.

Wait. Next time?

Victor winks at me from the doorway and slips back into the hall before I can respond. I’m not sure what I would say in that moment anyway.

The quiet of the house settles across my room and I lie back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling in awed disbelief at what just happened. I don’t know how he found a shortcut around my inhibitions, but I don’t feel afraid of him rejecting me like I thought I would. At least not with what we just did. Touching each other that way doesn’t “really count”, right? 

But Victor hinted at a ‘next time’… What did he have in mind for that?

I click off my bedside light and try not to overthink it. Instead, I lie back, close my eyes and indulge in a mental replay of the evening, reliving the tender touches and awkward first moments I’ll never forget.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who takes the time to write comments & criticism. I love to know what works and how I can improve! ~Pembrook


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